


Ha

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bodyswap, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in the wrong bodies, Elrond sets Thranduil straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ha

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for lunarluminia’s “elrond/thranduil established and bodyswapped for some reason much to their children's confusion” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In a few days, when Galadriel and Mithrandir arrive, they’ll have a proper council. For now, the two of them sit at the stone table, the sun setting behind the mountains and the river running far below. This is the strangest meeting Elrond has ever had, which is a feat indeed; he’s held many, many councils in his lifetime. But he’s never sat across from his own face, eyeing him with, of all things, _amusement_.

Elrond finds very little about their situation amusing. 

It still isn’t quite clear. Some ancient magic, clearly, impervious to their own, has taken a hold of them. The artifact Thranduil first brought him sat heavy in his hands, hewn of metal and stone and boasting strange ruins that even he couldn’t discern. It’s just like an elf of the Greenwood to bring something they don’t understand—foolhardy and tricky as they are, though Elrond would’ve expected better at least from their king. Yet Thranduil’s always enjoyed works of inexplicable beauty, and of course he thought himself quite impressive for presenting such a gift—until their hands both fell upon it, anyway. 

Now Thranduil’s still smirking, just out of a different body. His mental commands twist Elrond’s own lips, Elrond’s entire body made to lounge back in one of Thranduil’s languid poses. Elrond himself, trapped in Thranduil’s skin, is bent over the table with his hands clasped together. It’s odd to have the hair that cascades down around him golden instead of brown, unbound and thick. The fingers before him appear younger, perhaps paler, lithe and more shapely. Thranduil is a very attractive man, and it isn’t that his body is displeasing. It’s simply that Elrond doesn’t _belong_ in it, and more so, Thranduil doesn’t belong in _his_.

Thranduil doesn’t seem to see the problems Elrond does. He acts as though Mithrandir will put them back with a flick of his staff, as opposed to the long, arduous road of problem solving that’s likely before them. While Elrond ponders and occasionally presents theories on the mysterious artifact occupying the table, Thranduil purrs, “Perhaps these discussions would be better held in your... or rather, _my_ quarters. I do know how very much you enjoy lying in my bed, after all.”

Frowning thinly, Elrond answers, “This is no time for jokes or idle flirting. This is a very serious issue, and all we have settled so far is the decision not to disrupt our families or kingdoms with the knowledge of this trouble. That is hardly enough. How long do you think we can truly keep pretending to be one another? And then what? Surely you do not think that instability in our kingdoms would be a small problem.”

“I think it would be a catastrophic problem if anyone thought me unfit to rule my lands,” Thranduil responds easily, flicking a hand. He looks so very _flippant_ : an expression that doesn’t look quite right on Elrond’s stoic features. “But we are both great lords who should have little trouble playing our roles. And in the meantime... well, my distraction is understandable. How am I to concentrate on the woes of the world when I have such a very _handsome_ elf before me?”

Elrond is tempted to roll his eyes. On his end, he finds it disconcerting to be flirted with by a man wearing his body. Thranduil can be difficult to resist at times, but it’s definitely easier to do so when it only appears as though Elrond is denying himself. “I will not warn you again, Thranduil. You will behave yourself while you possess my body, or I will also use this new vessel to further my own ideals.”

Thranduil raises an eyebrow. It isn’t nearly so menacing as when he does it with his own thicker, darker ones. “You say that as though we have differing ideals, beyond my interest in utilizing the more intimate delights of this surprise and your reluctance to enjoy your own flesh.” After a moment’s pause, Thranduil’s smirk increases, and he leans further back in his chair. “Of course, should you truly wish to experience more with my body, I am sure you will find it quite easy to do so. You have, after all, become the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth.”

As enticing as Thranduil is, there are times when Elrond wonders how he could’ve ever fallen for someone so infuriating. 

He’s saved from having to respond by footsteps up the winding stone path. They both glance between the pillars. Legolas arrives shortly, having come with his father to present the gift. He’s younger than Elrond’s sons, but still a talented, highly respectable elf. He shows as much with the half-bow he gives to Elrond’s body, causing Thranduil to lift an eyebrow but say nothing. Straightening, Legolas announces, “Forgive my interruption, but Elrohir and Elladan have arrived, though Arwen has not yet. Do you wish to share this ‘important news’ you have spoken of, or shall we wait until we are all present?”

Thranduil waves a noncommittal hand, replying in Elrond’s own gravelly voice, “We may do it later. For now, the greatest king alive and I have much to discuss.” Then he has the audacity to turn to Elrond and run his gaze hungrily over Elrond, his face obviously predatory. 

Legolas looks at him oddly. Elrond has never known Legolas particularly well, but surely he knows enough of Elrond to find this behaviour strange. It’s the final straw for Elrond. It’s become clear that unless he asserts himself, his powerful lover will run amuck in his skin. 

He says, “Legolas.” It catches Legolas’ attention instantly, and he turns to look at what he sees as his father. In Thranduil’s deep voice, Elrond gently tells him, “I have not said this to you enough, my son. But I wish you to know that I love you very, very much. I always have.”

Legolas’ eyes widen. His mouth falls open: a rare look of pure shock. It’s difficult to shock an elf. But Elrond’s own body seems to be at a loss for words across the table, and for one strained moment, the three of them are silent. 

Then Legolas hesitates and nearly stutters, “I... I love you too, Ada.” His cheeks have turned faintly pink. Without another word, be bows his head, and then he turns and takes his leave. He probably wishes to escape before the words are taken back; he likely hasn’t heard them in many, many years, if he ever did. It’s a pity; Elrond would’ve liked Legolas to also hear how very proud of him his father is.

With Legolas gone, Elrond turns back to his lover, lifting a challenging eyebrow. 

Thranduil looks horrified. Then he hisses suddenly, “You will pay for that.”

“My children already know of my love for them,” Elrond casually returns. “And I assume you will do nothing to harm them or express any ill will to them, unless you wish to start a war. Now, let us discuss this issue properly, or I will be forced to find your son and give him the fatherly embrace he deserves. If I must, I will even find Tauriel and give her my blessing.”

Thranduil now looks halfway between scandalized and fuming. But he bends over the table, crossing his arms stiffly. With the most sullen look Elrond’s features have ever worn, he mutters, “ _Fine_. We will talk.”

Elrond finds it immensely strange to see himself pouting. But he continues onto their discussion nonetheless, now idly wondering just how many good deeds he can accomplish in this body before the world is right again.


End file.
